


Fractured

by dhyanshiva



Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)
Genre: Canon Related, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:02:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24483211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhyanshiva/pseuds/dhyanshiva
Summary: 'Tere bin saans na le, mere din raat'
Relationships: Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Comments: 19
Kudos: 23





	Fractured

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Death and Grief, Mourning
> 
> This is only being uploaded because I despise having incomplete and unpublished drafts just, sitting there on my laptop. 
> 
> Thank you to Shreya for the screenshots, for compiling an idea that is also known as the 'Rot In Hell Dhyan AU' and rightly so. Though the framework is somewhat the same - the idea didn't quite go the way I'd envisioned it to but oh well.
> 
> I feel like I had to write this as a full fledged piece, owing to my discipline/ field of study but also for my own well being, strangely enough.
> 
> PS. Aside from checking that this is somewhat coherent, this piece has not been proofread.
> 
> Permission to yell at me in my DMs is granted in advance :)

Aman felt Kartik’s grip on his hand tighten and his sherwani seemed to suffocate him further as they watched the group of police officers approach them. Moments later, they found themselves crowded to one side by these men and time seemed to freeze for them both. Their shoulders were pressed together and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kartik step forward a little, angling them such that he stood as something of a barrier between him and the biggest threat to them in this moment. The rest of the family began to protest at what was to happen, Chaman chacha most enthusiastically, backed by Rajni. Soon, yells echoed through the air, words ricocheting past them, but these began to blur out as Aman registered Kartik’s hold on his hand become tighter, fiercer and he couldn’t help but wince slightly. He didn’t quite discern what the Head Constable was saying, louder than the rest, but his words were cut off as time seemed to speed up once more.

Aman was pushed to the ground , Kartik’s form covering him entirely, a wild, panicked look in his eyes as he held Aman down, one hand cradling the back of his head. Just over his shoulder, Aman registered an officer with his arm raised, posture trying to convey he wasn’t a threat, the baton resting against his thigh. Yet, his boyfriend seemed to think so and it took a few moments for Kartik to register that no baton hadn’t been raised, let alone made contact with his body. A few moments later, Kartik rose, pulling Aman to his feet as well. Kartik had acted on impulse and it shook Aman to see him so afraid. He stood there, speechless, as he took Aman’s face between his hands, cupping it with a tenderness that contrasted the storm in his eyes, the promise of causing destruction. Aman’s eyes flickered involuntarily to the group behind them and it broke the moment, Kartik letting go and instead keeping a hand wrapped around his wrist.

“Chalo Aman – ”

Kartik’s light grip turned vice like in an instant and Aman didn’t need to look to know that he would be clamped up in fear once more. Slowly, he eased his wrist out of the grip, somehow, and instead took hold of his hand, unafraid now. Yes, it was risky, given their current predicament but there was no way Aman was going to let Kartik go, not again. Whatever lay ahead, they’d brave together.

“I’m not going anywhere. I won’t let him go.”

He could hear Kartik’s breath catch in his throat and squeezed his hand, trying to show him that this was reality, that Aman meant every single word. As if they’d planned it, every single gaze turned to Shankar Tripathi and he flinched at the realisation. For a moment, Aman felt like he couldn’t breathe either and tried not to crush Kartik’s fingers. There was pin drop silence as Shankar Tripathi walked towards them, steps slow and hesitant. He came to a stop in front of them and shook his head. The disappointment wasn’t as strong as it had been that morning at the train station, when the man had vomited at the sight of them. No, this was something closer to resignation. What did he hope for? For his father to have changed? Aman watched as he raised his hand, felt Kartik flinch, saw the way his resisted stepping back in his peripheral vision. Shankar’s hand came to rest on Kartik’s now dishevelled hair, in lieu of blessing him. There was an earnest ‘ _sorry, beta_ ’ too. Aman couldn’t believe it. How? Why? Then, a small apologetic smile, laced with regret and he pulled his hand away as Kartik let out a choked sob.

He knew how much this meant to Kartik, to finally receive love from Aman’s father, he knew Kartik was letting himself hope once more, for a family here in Allahabad. But try as he might, he couldn’t forget the horrific memory of that rod coming down on Kartik’s body over and over. Aman remembers Kartik picking it up once more, offering Shankar another opportunity to hurt him, putting it in his hands, literally. Aman’s penchant for forgiveness wasn’t anything like Kartik’s. He couldn’t let go of the resentment, the contempt, the disappointment he felt for his father due to his actions that day. Taking a deep breath, he halted this train in its tracks.

“Kartik will forgive you, I know this. Yet, how can you expect me to forget this? This one gesture doesn’t negate or erase all the hurt you’ve caused him, physical or otherwise. Aapko itna aasaan lag raha hai? Mujh se toh koi umeed mat rakhna aap. Ek jhat mein sab badalne se toh raha.”

Before Shankar could respond, however, there was a gasp from somewhere in the crowd and Aman barely registered the loss of Kartik’s hand in his before his boyfriend was pitching forward, body drooping. Aman’s father reacted instantly, arms coming up to help take Kartik’s weight against him. Fear gripped him anew as he reached out and took some of his weight, father and son leading the suddenly unconscious Kartik Singh to a cot in the corner. Vaguely, he sensed his chacha lead the police officers away, deep in conversation. His father hovered over Kartik, unsure of what to with himself. He chose to ignore the older man, however. Aman’s focus was on the man he loved with his heart and soul, the rest of the world fading to nothing. What had gone wrong? Surely.. _no_. Aman refused to entertain that line of thought. Even curled up in this foetal position, Kartik hadn’t let go of Aman’s hand and he didn’t see cause to pull away. Carefully, he reached out to smooth back the hair flopping onto Kartik’s forehead. He let his hand stay there, ran his hand through the strands. He stopped abruptly though, tensing as his father’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. Looking up, he met his eyes with a frigid glare, stony silence between them. Aman wasn’t inclined to trust him so soon and he must’ve conveyed this adequately as Shankar pulled his hand away and walked away. He watched as the older man returned with a blanket from somewhere and draped it over Kartik’s body. So lost was Aman in watching this odd behaviour that it didn’t register for a moment that something was wrong.

Kartik’s hand didn’t feel as warm and Aman removed his hand from the tousled head of hair to check his pulse. He didn’t understand why it wasn’t as strong, why he couldn’t feel the force of life rushing through his veins as much as it was only moments ago. Aman watched, horrified, as Kartik’s grip slackened completely. Reaching out, he gripped Kartik’s shoulder, pushing, pulling, hoping he’d respond. For a few moments, there’s nothing. He goes back to check for a pulse. It’s even weaker now. Desperation took hold of him and he leapt up, lifting Kartik’s unconscious form onto his lap. Aman had come dangerously close to losing him, but never like this. At least then, he’d known that this wonderful ray of sunshine would blaze elsewhere. He would become a distant star in Aman’s sky and he had come to expect this. But what he couldn’t comprehend was the idea of this star disappearing completely, turning to dust. Aman tunes out the concerned din completely, choosing instead to focus on the love of his life laying eerily still in his arms.

Desperately, he shouts Kartik’s name once more and the relief on seeing his eyes flutter open for a second is so strong, it makes him sob anew. All too soon though, those eyes fall shut once more, the long, beautiful eyelashes coming to rest against cheeks that were slowly losing their colour. Aman doesn’t react at first, the shock paralysing him completely. He begs him to wake up, just wake the fuck up – this wasn’t the time to mess about. Kartik knows where to draw the line, doesn’t he? But no, Aman thinks. Maybe this is some skewed idea of payback. After all, the sherwani that clung to his body was evidence of the fact that he’d taken things too far too – this joke of a wedding was supposed to have been just that. A joke, not to be taken seriously and certainly not land him at the mandap. He resorts to yelling at Kartik, his voice breaking as he demands that he stop fucking about and just wake up.

“Abey saale, Kartik, uth ja. Tune hi to kaha tha, ‘galti se bhi nahi, Aman Tripathi, galti se bhi nahi.’ Kya hua uska? Aise kaise chale jaa sakte ho tum? Aise –”

When he doesn’t respond, even then, Aman _knows_. He knows Kartik wouldn’t break his promise, certainly not in such a cruel way. So… so this really must be it. The fight leaves him completely and he collapses, head coming to rest on Kartik’s immobile torso. You could hear a pin drop in the silence that descended on the gathering, then. Shankar Tripathi couldn’t believe what he’d just witnessed. Slowly, he reached out to touch Aman before the ice cold voice of his son stopped him, an outstretched hand lingering listlessly in the space between them. Aman rose, slowly, as if his every muscle was protesting the movement. Eventually, he found the strength to turn and face the gathering, face his father who was the perfect picture of disbelief and hurt. He barely held back a scoff of disgust. Keeping his expression blank, he made sure to convey his sentiments to his man.

“Nahi, choona bhi mat. Lekin dekhiye, look at the consequences of your actions, of your sick mindest. Maar diya aapne usse, you’ve killed him. Mere Kartik ko aapne -”

Aman shot up, a raw screaming tearing his lungs apart. He struggled to discern nightmare from reality and tried to calm himself down, to no avail. Almost on reflex, he reached out, fear gripping him anew as his hand made contact with the cold, pristine duvet. All these years later, he struggled to make sense of Kartik’s untimely, unnecessary death. They’d managed to get him to the hospital that night and Kartik had been in a coma for a long while. Eventually, his body had succumbed to eternal sleep, the events of Allahabad, the beating proving too much for even a proud ‘lohaar ka beta’ to handle. The physical trauma was evident, but years of mental and emotional abuse had completely ruined Kartik Singh, manifesting only now, as if this last shock was too much to bear for his soul.

A few days later, Aman emerged from the ICU a changed man, an empty man. The graph had flattened, the long beep a sign that Kartik’s life had come to an end, his body shutting down once and for all. His journey had come to an end and without him, Aman felt somewhat directionless, lost. In that fateful moment, Kartik had taken Aman’s soul with him. And really, what was a body devoid of a soul?

After that horrendous, recurrent, nightmare, Aman feels breathless, as if someone were suffocating him. The darkness only served as a reminder of how lonely he was and so, clawing at the bedspread, he pulled it off of his clammy body and staggered out of bed. His feet made contact with the cool flooring and it helped ground him to the present, to reality. Somehow, he managed to stand and made his way to the balcony, colliding with multiple objects along the way. With great difficulty, hands trembling, he pulls the sliding door open and steps out, gasping for lungful’s of the night air. He clung to the railing of the balcony, resting his whole weight onto his forearms. He stood there a few moments, trying in vain to regain some semblance of composure. Suddenly, a voice called out his name from behind him and with it, the raging storm within him abates. Yet again, Aman feels shame overcome him. How many times will this happen? Wasn’t the torture of his misbelief enough?

Gently, nimble fingers encourage him to let ease the vice grip on the railing and eventually let go. Hands on his shoulders steer him to face the taller man. Tears cloud their vision and the man watches as Aman struggles, refuses to meet his eyes. Reaching out, he lifts his chin with one finger, gently, so as not to startle him or elicit a flinch. This was a torturous cycle and for the millionth time, he found himself cursing the scientist in Allahabad for doing this to his son.

In the larger scheme of things, Kartik had emerged from that horrible week relatively unscathed. Physical injuries heal, given the right period of time and treatment – it’s the psychological damage that persists. This was where he drew the line, where a heart that was otherwise the epitome of love and forgiveness shut and locked its doors. He knew forgetting this was out of question but forgiving Shankar Tripathi? A definite no. Though Aman tried to tell him otherwise, Kartik believed that some, if not most of the blame for all of this lay on his shoulders too. _Why_ had he insisted on going to Allahabad? For once, why couldn’t he have just _listened_? Aman too, didn’t expect things to go as haywire – a kinder term, he supposed – as they did.

Yet, somewhere beyond all these conflicting emotions, one continued to rear its head: disappointment. Aman had told him twice over, once they’d dealt with the first blow, that there was no difference between a scientist and a blacksmith. Not when it came to this, not when it came to being a _father_. Turns out, education didn’t mean shit if you couldn’t be a decent human being. The last thing Kartik remembers from that debacle is Aman’s voice, his grip on Kartik’s hand, before losing consciousness and tipping forward. He hadn’t reacted like that in a long time, but it wasn’t impossible – it was his body’s way of reacting to trauma and the events of Allahabad had been a shock to the system. Unfortunately, prior to this fateful incident, Aman had been witness to things like this over the course of their relationship, few and far between. It’d been when Kartik’s mind decided it was acceptable for him to revisit, relive in alarming clarity the abuse, the pain of his adolescence. But nothing had ever come close to this. Because after affecting Kartik, the poison damaged Aman too, irreversibly so.

As the doctor explained when he emerged from his coma, Aman’s fear and mistrust of many others had only been amplified by what they had endured in Allahabad and it had manifested into a horrific nightmare he truly believed was reality. Over and over, all Kartik could do was watch, absolutely helpless, as Aman relived that memory but with a _completely_ different ending. Kartik was strictly forbidden from intervening and pulling Aman out of that dreadful headspace – it was all up to Aman, he had to pull himself out, alone. The events of tonight, though, were on him. Kartik found that he couldn’t sleep so had been in the living room for a while, on the sofa, just, staring up at the ceiling. But that meant he’d left Aman alone and here was the consequence of that choice.

It wasn’t just the nights, though, that was a pill they would’ve somehow been able to swallow. But this, this was unbearable. Some days, when Kartik was delayed after work, for reasons entirely out of his control, he’d return home to a frantic Aman and it would be a while before he could coax him out of the negative spiral his mind clung to. Other days, Aman would be eerily calm, just, well, a shell of himself and it made Kartik’s chest ache to see him like this, to see how fractured his mind and heart had become.

There were countless evenings where Kartik would gather Aman into his embrace, run a hand through his hair and repeat like a mantra the words he’d told him at Rajni and Ashok’s almost – wedding: you aren’t responsible for your father’s behaviour, his actions. If Kartik blamed himself this much, he knew Aman felt much worse and even though Kartik tried to dispel his misconception, a part of Aman refused to believe him. For some inexplicable reason, he felt responsible for what happened to Kartik and it was simply unbearable for the latter to watch the torture his boyfriend kept putting himself through. Aman wasn’t to blame in the slightest for the way things were now. None of this was his fault and Kartik prayed that one day, he would understand and accept this.

Kartik looped an arm around Aman’s waist and led him back to their bedroom. After urging him to take a few sips of water, he encouraged Aman to try and sleep once more. Climbing in next to him, He watched, heart breaking a little more as Aman reached out and took his hand, holding it close to his chest. It was an action Aman would be on the receiving end of, not him and that the smaller man was so protective and fearful now only strengthened Kartik’s resolve. With his free hand, he reached out to run his fingers through the tousled strands and tried to calm his racing heart.

Sometimes, if he was feeling particularly generous, Kartik would toy with the remote possibility of absolving Shankar Tripathi of the blame for all this, if only to cast away the memory, the looming shadow of the man from their lives entirely. He despised, hated with every fibre of his being the change that Aman had undergone, how much trauma he was forced to deal with on a daily fucking basis. But even when the claws of hatred dug deep, relentlessly, Kartik just refused to give up – in fact, he couldn’t afford to. It would take time, energy, patience, effort, unconditional support and a whole lot more for them to fight this. He was certain they could do it, together, as one.

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist:
> 
> Kanna Haniyondu - Raghu Dixit (Kannada - state rep!)  
> Canada - Lauv feat. Alessia Cara  
> Daisies - Katy Perry  
> Bandeya - Sharib Toshi feat. Arijit Singh


End file.
